


Platinum Doesn't Rust

by Moonsault, orphan_account



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8622442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/pseuds/Moonsault, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Kurt Angle shows back up on Smackdown and takes Jason and Chad under his wing, American Alpha feels like all of their dreams have come true.  But it doesn't take long before Jason starts to suspect Angle may not have the best interests of the whole team at heart...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the (surely not too distant) future when American Alpha has won the tag team titles.

“Another week, another successful title defense for American Alpha,” Chad Gable said, gazing down at the heavy blue and silver title in his hands. He put it gently in the back seat of the car and got into the driver’s seat. “Guess we worked out pretty well as a team after all.” 

(Jason had had to talk him out of driving with it slung over his shoulder the whole way for the first few weeks.)

“Hell yeah,” Jason Jordan said smugly, laying his down in the back seat next to Chad’s. 

“You didn’t always think so,” Chad pointed out with a grin. “I seem to remember someone telling me that they’d team up with anyone _but_ me.”

“What idiot was that?” Jason laughed at the indignant expression on Chad’s face. “Okay, okay, I had a few weeks of stupidity there.”

“It was more than a few weeks,” Chad said, pulling out of the parking lot. “It felt like years,” he added under his breath.

The city slipped by as Chad steered them onto the freeway, heading to the next town. Moving forward together. Jason watched the city lights slide over Chad’s face, touching his cheekbones and his neck and his mouth, illuminating his hair. He really had been an idiot. It felt like looking at a different person altogether, casting his mind back to those times: he knew, in the abstract, that he had seen Chad Gable as a distraction, as a creep. Hell, he’d re-watched their early promos together. But whenever he did, he never could focus on the annoyance in his own face, because he was too busy looking at Chad: at the fire in his eyes and the sureness of his smile, at the way he looked at Jason, full of hope. How had idiot past-Jason not seen _immediately_ how precious Chad Gable was? How had he ever once turned his back and walked away from the fierce bright soul of him? 

“--Are you even listening to me?” Chad’s laughter cut through his thoughts, and Jason jerked his gaze away from Chad’s face.

“Sure, yeah, of course I agree Breeze and Fandango can take the Usos. They’ve got the moves.”

Chad made a thoughtful noise. “They’ve made a surprisingly good team. You wouldn’t think two narcissists would work so well together, but it’s like...now that they have each other they’ve got a real reason to fight? They know they always have each other to look out for.”

“Yeah, they’ll probably make a run for the titles pretty soon. We’ll have to watch out.”

Chad tossed his hair and smiled at Jason. “We can take them. An All-American and an Olympian? It’s no contest. And I mean, we’ve got each other, right? That means even more.”

Jason smiled back, helpless as always before Chad’s confidence. “Yeah,” he said. “That means even more.”

It meant the world. It meant _everything._

He hadn’t stopped being an idiot about Chad Gable, Jason thought, watching his partner’s face. He was just an idiot in a different way now.

* * *

It was a moment that would live on in highlight reels and “Top 10 comebacks” lists forever: American Alpha had just defeated the Vaudevillains and were celebrating in the ring. Chad had made the pin and was still sitting on the mat; Jason knelt next to him and put his arms around him, mussing his hair.

And then a familiar, long-unheard brassy fanfare of trumpets rang out. Jason heard Chad breathe “Oh my _God_ ” as the crowd broke into screams…

And _Kurt Angle,_ in a blue suit with his Olympic gold medal around his neck, entered the arena. He looked at the ring where Jason and Chad were still kneeling together, and he smiled and pointed at them. “I’m dreaming,” Jason whispered as Angle came down the ramp. “Pinch me.”

He felt Chad’s fingers on his arm, shaking, the pinch so gentle that it was closer to a caress.

Angle got into the ring, smiling at the awe on their faces, and grabbed their hands, bringing them to their feet on either side of him, lifting their hands in the air in victory. 

Jason felt happy tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. To be recognized by _Kurt Angle,_ gold medalist, legend, icon--it was almost too good to believe. It was a shining moment, the kind that most wrestlers only dream of.

Later, Jason would remember it as the moment that Kurt Angle first came between him and Chad.

* * *

“He wants to be our manager? Are you kidding?” Jason stared at Daniel Bryan, unsure if he had heard him right. To get advice from one of the greatest wrestlers ever, to have the benefit of his wisdom and experience, to have him at ringside when they wrestled...

“Well, why not?” said Bryan, laughing. “He says you show a lot of promise, and--”

“--Promise?” Chad cast a laughing look at Jason that made Jason feel like he might just spontaneously combust. “We’re the _Smackdown champs,_ I think we’ve shown a lot more than _promise._ ”

“--But don’t tell him we said that,” said Jason hastily. “We don’t want to sound conceited.”

“It’s not conceit,” muttered Chad, but he was still smiling.

“So what should I tell him?” asked Bryan. “Are you two willing to have him as a manager?”

“ _Yes,_ ” they both chorused.

* * *

Jason got his fingers on the ball just enough to spoil Chad’s shot. The ball bounced away to the far side of the court, and Jason shot a smirk at Chad before loping over to retrieve it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chad said easily as he wandered over to their water bottles against the fence. “Enjoy your brief moment of victory.” He sat down on the court, taking a long gulp of water, and Jason watched the muscles of his throat work, unable to look away. He always griped about losing to Chad, but the truth was he didn’t mind so much. Basketball gave him a chance to be _against_ Chad in a way he couldn’t be in the ring-- that is, to _play_ against Chad, not to _be_ against him in the sense of getting to collide with him and put an arm across his chest and sometimes even wrap his arms around him to keep him from making the shot--a flagrant foul, of course, which always made Chad laugh at him and how desperate he was.

Okay, maybe he wanted to be against Chad in more than one way. And maybe he _was_ desperate. But he was even more desperate not to spoil what they had, this magical rapport which was the best thing Jason had ever had in his life.

“...can you believe it?” Chad punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Kurt Angle! Managing us! An _Olympic champion._ ” Chad sighed, his eyes far away: the look that Jason knew meant he was remembering London and his loss there. “A real champion.”

“Hey.” Jason punched him on the shoulder in return. “You’re a real champion too.”

Chad looked at him, and the wistful look in his eyes brightened into pride again. “That’s right, we are,” he said.

“I mean, I was never even _in_ the Olympics,” Jason pointed out as he stood up and held out his hand to Chad.

“Pfft. I mean, they’re cool and all, but they’re not _that_ important,” said Chad, grabbing his hand and letting himself be hauled up. Which was a blatant lie, but it made Jason feel better to hear him say it anyway.

* * *

“--and it’s such an honor to be working with you, sir,” Jason said, holding his hand out.

Angle shook it, beaming at him. “I’ve been watching you boys since I saw you show up on Smackdown, and I have to say, I’ve been very impressed.” He turned to shake Chad’s hand as well. “And Chad, it is such a pleasure. I saw you wrestle in London. It was an impressive effort, son.”

Chad’s cheeks went pink. “It’s nothing compared to you, sir.”

Kurt Angle was one of the very few people in the universe who could manage a “modest grin.” “I think you’ve got a great future here in the WWE,” he said. “Great things ahead of you.”

“We’ve got a title defense against the Hype Bros at the next pay-per-view,” Chad said. “We were hoping you could do some tape review, give us some pointers.”

Angle scoffed a bit. “As if you’ll need pointers from me to beat _them,_ ” he said. “But I’ll be happy to do some review with you. I’ve got some thoughts from your last match against them, for example.”

Chad gave Jason a delighted smile behind Angle’s back as they headed toward a monitor: _Can you believe this?_ And Jason honestly couldn’t. It was incredible, it was all his dreams come true: tag team champions with the most amazing wrestler of his generation, coached by the most amazing wrestler of the last generation.

It couldn’t get any better than this.

* * *

“And you see, if you can just get a little more torque on that cross armbreaker, it’ll be even more effective,” Angle was saying to Chad, leaning to demonstrate his point. “Don’t be afraid to release it a little earlier than the full count--you don’t want to risk disqualification, and if you do it right you won’t need the full count to cause some real damage.”

Chad nodded, rapt, and Jason could see him filing it all away, processing it. Transforming it into even further greatness and glory.

Angle turned to Jason, and Jason leaned forward, ready to catch whatever advice Angle had to give him.

Angle nodded and gave them both a thumbs-up. “You’re going to do great against the Hype Bros,” he announced.

And he left.

“God, he’s _so right_ about that armbreaker,” Chad was saying, excited. He grabbed Jason’s arm and hopped up onto a table to wrap his legs around it, demonstrating without applying pressure. “He’s a genius. _God,_ we’re so lucky.”

Jason looked down at Chad, who was beaming, holding Jason’s hand as he pretended to wrench at his arm. 

“Yeah,” said Jason. “Yeah, we’re super-lucky.”

* * *

_”You’ve got this,_ ” Kurt Angle yelled in Gorilla as the Hype Bros music stopped. American Alpha was just about to head out to defend their titles again. Chad was bouncing nervously on his toes, and Angle grabbed him, pulling Chad’s forehead to his. “You’re an _Olympian,_ ” he announced, “The elite! The pinnacle! This is nothing to an athlete who’s been to the top!”

Chad broke away to pump his fist, his eyes alight, grinning at Jason. As always, Jason couldn’t help but grin back, even though his chest was oddly tight and pained.

“You’re the best! Nothing can stop you!” Angle called over their music as they went out.

And Jason found himself wondering if that “you” was the plural or the singular.

* * *

They did beat the Hype Bros in a barn-burner of a match. Ryder and Rawley were fired up too, and there were a few moments where Jason was worried. But having Angle there at ringside yelling encouragement really did help, and eventually they got off the Grand Amplitude and put their opponents away to hold onto the titles.

Chad was laughing and Jason felt him kiss the side of his head. He tangled his hands in Chad’s hair and hugged him tight, so tight, as if he were terrified he was going to slip away.

* * *

“Great news!” Jason and Chad looked up as Kurt Angle burst into the locker room, beaming, and clapped Chad on the back. “I was talking with Daniel Bryan, and he agreed with me that after that performance at the last pay-per-view, the audience would love to see you in a singles match.” His smile seemed to bathe Chad in a spotlight of pride and hope. “You’re going to have a singles match next week against A. J. Styles, son.”

Chad’s face lit up with amazement and disbelief. “A match with the heavyweight champ?” he breathed.

Angle nodded. “It’s a non-title match, of course, but it’ll give you a chance to really show your stuff.”

A shadow dimmed Chad’s smile, and he frowned. “What about Jason?” he said, putting a hand on Jason’s arm.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be allowed to be at ringside,” Angle reassured him.

“No, I mean--he should have a singles match too,” Chad said. He looked at Jason as an idea struck him. “Maybe against Ziggler! And-- _why not_ for the Intercontinental title, for that matter?” He shook Jason’s arm slightly, aglow with delight. “You could take him, J.J.”

“Right!” Angle was still smiling, but some of the enthusiasm was gone. “I’ll talk to Daniel about that later, see what I can do.”

He disappeared through the door, and Jason knew there’d be no talk with the GM, no singles match for him. But Chad was glowing with delight, asking Jason to go over some tapes of Styles’s work in TNA, and the joy in his eyes blotted out all of Jason’s fears for a moment.

* * *

“He’s got him in the Calf Crusher!” Mauro Ranallo’s voice was hoarse from shouting. “Will Chad Gable tap out?”

“Hell no!” Jason yelled, his voice lost in the tumult. Gable and Styles were putting on a clinic, and the crowd was going bonkers--Jason told himself that it wasn’t as big a pop as when American Alpha had won the titles, but he wasn’t sure. Jason was at ringside with Angle, shouting encouragement while Angle yelled advice. It was hard--it was _really_ hard--not to be in the ring helping Chad, but Jason kept himself from interfering. Chad would never forgive him…

Chad’s face was contorted with pain, his hand raised in the air, the fingers trembling as Styles put pressure on his leg. His hand almost started to come down. And then he looked up and met Jason’s eyes. Jason saw him grit his teeth as inch by agonizing inch he dragged himself toward the ropes, toward Jason. He reached out with a shaking hand and Jason _willed_ those fingers to the rope, sagging with relief when they finally closed around it.

Chad dragged himself to his feet. Styles came at him and Chad dodged, grabbed Styles from behind, and executed a perfect Chaos Theory suplex, tossing Styles onto his back and pinning him. The ref counted and the bell rang, and Chad Gable had won his first singles match on the main roster. Against the heavyweight champion.

The crowd was shrieking with delight, but all Jason had eyes for was the way Chad tossed his hair back and his gaze immediately found Jason’s. Scrambling to his feet, Chad jumped over the ropes and leaped from the apron into Jason’s arms, laughing. “I did it!” he yelled.

“You did it,” Jason said, holding him tight, burying his face in Chad’s hair. “You’re the greatest.”

“What a match!” Angle was there, pulling Chad away from him, beaming with delight. “What a match, son! I told you you had it in you! I told you!”

Chad hugged Angle too, and Angle dragged his arm up into the air, and Chad was crying with joy. Jason smiled at him through the tears in his own eyes.

* * *

Jason looked at Chad, sitting on the couch next to him back at Chad's place in Florida. “So what do you think, will that work against Jimmy? Or should I wait and use it with Jey?” A moment’s silence in which it became clear that Chad’s closed eyes were not thoughtfulness. “Hey,” Jason said, poking him gently.

Chad blinked blearily at him. “I’m sorry,” he yawned. “I’m so beat. Kurt had me up late last night reviewing tapes for the match with Ambrose and doing burpees. I think, like, six million of them.”

“You know, we’ve got a title defense coming up in three weeks,” Jason said.

“Oh, believe me, I know! But come on, you and me together?” Chad punched his shoulder lightly. “We’ll take them easily. This match with Ambrose, on the other hand? I dunno, unless I come up with a good counter to Dirty Deeds…”

“Dude, we haven’t had a tag match together in weeks,” Jason said. “We’re going to be rusty.”

“Rusty? You and me?” Chad smiled with sleepy affection at him. “Platinum doesn’t rust.” He yawned again and rested his head on Jason’s shoulder. “But I’m sorry. Explain it again, okay?”

Jason started to explain the move again, but let his voice trail off when Chad began to snore softly. Carefully he lowered his sleeping partner to the couch, moving aside to make room for him. He wanted to keep planning for the match against the Usos, but there didn’t seem to be much point to it on his own, so instead he just watched Chad sleep for a while before slipping quietly away.

* * *

“Son, I’ve got something for you.” Kurt Angle put a box into Chad’s hands. “I ordered it a while ago. I think you’ll like it.”

Chad opened the box, and stared down at the singlet that lay within: white with blue stars and a bold red chevron. “Sir!” he stammered, looking down at it. “I--I don’t know what to say!”

“Say thank you, and say that you’ll wear it in your match against Ambrose tonight,” Angle said.

“Thank you! And--and of course!” Chad looked at Jason in amazement as Angle clapped him on the back and left the room. “Can you _believe_ this?” He lifted the shining cloth out of the box, his face filled with awe, and Jason felt something twist angrily inside him.

“What’s wrong with our singlets, huh?” he said, feeling small and stupid, unable to stop himself. “Are our _team_ singlets not good enough for you?”

“What? No, of course not, they’re _ours,_ ” said Chad. “But this is a gift, and Kurt wants me to--he wants--”

“He wants to break us up!” Jason blurted out. “He wants you to ditch me and become a singles wrestler!”

Chad stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Did he ever get me that singles match, huh?”

“I’m sure he tried--”

“Are you? Are you really? Because I’m not. I don’t think he’s given a damn about me or about American Alpha since he got here. Not one damn!”

Chad’s face was baffled. “Kurt Angle’s not the kind of person to play favorites. He’s a national hero. He’s an--”

“--an _Olympian_ , yes, I _get_ it! Not like the rest of us plebes who never made it, I know! I’m telling you, he doesn’t want to be managing a team, he wants to be managing you. He wants American Alpha _finished,_ Chad, and I’m tired of pretending he doesn’t!”

The bafflement in Chad’s face had shifted into hurt and something else, something Jason couldn’t bear. “Since when are _you_ so protective of our team, huh?” he said. “I mean, I don’t remember _you_ practically groveling for the chance to work with me, do you? Oh that’s right, because you didn’t! I was the one--” Chad pointed at his own chest with a stabbing finger, “I was the one who had to plead and beg--I _begged_ you, for _months_! And you laughed at me, and now I’ve got a chance for a few singles matches, and you’re _jealous_? That’s not fair,” Chad said, his voice passionate and pained. “That’s not fair at _all,_ J.J.”

 _Even now, even furious, he calls me by the nickname I want,_ Jason thought in agony. But it was all too late, they were both too angry, and Jason couldn’t come up with anything at all to say as Chad swung away from him and disappeared after Angle.

* * *

Chad lost his match against Dean, but it was close, and Dean shook his hand after. Then he won his next match against Apollo Crews. Jason watched from the back, filled with miserable lonely pride, knowing Chad could do anything he set out to do.

And then it was their title match against the Usos.

Jason sneaked looks at Chad as he stretched in Gorilla. Chad was wearing one of their team singlets, but because they hadn’t been speaking, they still didn’t match. That seemed horribly appropriate.

“We’re going to win,” Chad said abruptly, not looking at him. “And I’m not giving up on us, no matter what. Even if you don’t believe me.”

Their music hit and they went out.

* * *

Everything was off from the beginning, and Jason knew a lot of that was his fault--missed tags, miscommunication, it was all because he’d blown up at Chad and made things awful. Angle hadn’t come out to ringside--he’d claimed he was stuck in traffic and would be there soon. Everything was horrible.

Jason dropkicked Jimmy, then Jey, taking a brief satisfaction in the _thump_ of his feet against their chest. But then a lariat by Jey seemed to knock the breath out of him and he barely made it back for the tag. He heard Chad come into the ring, and as he stood on the apron trying to catch his breath, he felt Jimmy grab his feet and send his head crashing into the turnbuckle. Dazed and disoriented, he struggled to try to get back on the apron, but he could barely get to his knees. From far away he heard the crowd’s roar peak, heard the referee’s fist hitting the canvas.

And then it was over. They’d lost.

Jason felt sobs racking his body as he stared at the sight of the Usos hold the titles aloft, beaming. Chad was rolling out of the ring, scrubbing a forearm across his face, not looking at Jason. 

He went up the ramp without looking back, leaving Jason to trail after him, alone.

* * *

“Hey,” a voice said, and a towel was placed around his neck. 

Jason blinked at Tyler Breeze through sore eyes. “Thanks?” he managed.

“You looked like you needed it,” Tyler said. “You’re all...sweaty and...sad. It makes you a lot uglier.” His words were insulting, but his voice was oddly sympathetic. “It’s okay,” Tyler said, patting him on the back. “Not everyone can be as gorgeous as Dango and me.”

Fandango sidled up beside Tyler, gazing at Jason with a distant pity. “Angle just got in,” he said. “He’s in his dressing room.”

Jason rubbed at his face with the towel which didn’t have Chad’s name on it. “Thanks,” he said. “On my way.”

Fandango shrugged as he left. Angle hadn’t expressed any interest in talking to Jordan, but Jason hadn’t stuck around long enough for Fandango to let him know.

* * *

Jason heard Chad’s voice from behind the door of Angle’s dressing room and froze. 

“I was distracted,” Chad was saying. “I haven’t been focused on the tag titles.”

Angle’s voice was sympathetic. “It’s totally understandable, son. There’s no need for you to beat yourself up. The fact of the matter is that, talented as you are, you can only do so much. You can’t split your energies. You just can’t be a full time singles and a full time tag team wrestler.”

“I understand now,” Chad said.

“I was hoping you would,” Angle said, and Jason could hear the smile in his voice. “I was really hoping you’d learn this lesson on your own. It’s a hard one, son, but better to learn it early in your career.”

“You’re absolutely right,” said Chad, and Jason squeezed his eyes shut at the conviction and determination in his voice.

“So you know what you’ve got to do,” said Angle.

“I know what I have to do,” said Chad, and Jason waited, cold and alone, to hear him say it. “I’ve got to find Jason and tell him--”

Jason took a deep, sobbing breath.

“--that I’m sorry, and it’s all my fault, and we’re going to get those tag titles back,” Chad said.

There was a long silence, in which Jason blinked in blank amazement at the cinderblock wall.

“You expect me to believe,” Kurt Angle said, and his voice was suddenly cold, “that you’re going to throw away this singles push to try and get your tag titles back?”

“Damn right,” said Chad.

“Son.” Angle’s voice held all the disappointment of a long-suffering father. “Wrestling-- _real_ wrestling--is a singles sport. I expected you of all people to understand that.” There was a silence in which Chad said nothing, but apparently Angle read something in his face, because he eventually said heavily, “I thought you had the potential to be truly great, son. But I guess I was wrong.”

“American Alpha is the greatest thing I’ve ever been a part of,” Chad said, and Jason could hear tears in his voice. “We are going to make up for my mistakes and win those tag team titles back, and we are going to show you what true greatness is. Oh, and sir?” Chad added, polite but fierce, “you can stop calling me son.”

The dressing room door was flung open and Chad came barrelling out, almost colliding with Jason. “Oh!” he said, trying to sidestep him. Jason accidentally stepped in the same direction and they banged awkwardly into each other. “I’m sorry,” they both said automatically, and then Chad started to laugh, even though Jason could still see the tears in his eyes. “We need to talk,” Chad said, and grabbed Jason’s arm, dragging him away.

“You were right about Kurt, J.J.,” Chad announced as they headed down the corridor. “I was blinded with hero-worship and I didn’t see it, but you were one hundred percent right from the very beginning.”

“No,” Jason said, pulling them to a stop. There was no one around. He took Chad by the shoulders. “No, I wasn’t,” Jason said. “Not from the _very beginning._ Because I was wrong about us back in NXT, Chad, I was so, so wrong about us. I was a fool to ever mock you, I was an idiot to walk away from you, and I just want you to believe that I _know_ it now. I know it with all my heart.” Chad was looking up at him, and Jason couldn’t read his expression, and it was terrifying. “With all my heart,” he repeated, shaking him slightly.

“So…” Chad’s voice was careful. “Do you trust me? Do you trust me to know where we should go next, what we should do next?” He swallowed hard. “Do you trust me to know what’s right for us as a team?”

“Absolutely,” said Jason. “Tell me what we’re doing, and we’re doing it.”

Chad nodded, his gaze on Jason’s face back to that laser-sharp focus that always made Jason feel a bit giddy. “First, of course, we’re getting the titles back.”

“Anything you say.”

“We’re getting back into our pick-up basketball routine.”

“That’s great!”

Chad tilted his head. “But we’re going to find someone else to compete against and play as a team, at least for a while. Get ourselves back in sync.”

“Anything you say,” said Jason, trying to hide his selfish disappointment that he wouldn’t be able to foul Chad anymore.

Chad almost smiled for some reason. “And you have to switch up your workout to focus on your lower body more. Our last few Grand Amplitudes needed more stability in the lift.”

“Anything you say,” Jason said with more confidence.

“And there’s one more thing,” Chad said.

He reached up and took Jason’s face in his hands, went up on his toes, and kissed him.

The world went wavery and indistinct around Jason; too startled to react at all, he simply stared at Chad’s closed, blissful eyes for a long moment. Then he threw his arms around Chad and hoisted him in the air, deepening the kiss, dizzy with delight. Chad laughed against his mouth, his legs wrapped around Jason’s waist, then dropped kisses on his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his chin: a warm quick flurry of soft touches. Then he dropped back to the floor and put his hand to his chin, tilting his head to the side, considering.

“Not bad at all,” he said. “But your reaction time was a little slow. And if you back me up to a wall I bet we can keep it going for a lot longer. Let’s try it again and see if we can do it better, okay?”

“Anything you say,” whispered Jason, and gathered him up once more.


End file.
